Page 25 of Drown Me Gently (Flipped Fairytales)

They returned to the cabin under a quiet sky, the air tinged with the warm suggestion of summer. Auren was still smiling as he kicked off his boots by the door; windblown, flushed from laughter, eyes tired but alight with everything he’d seen.

Ulric wasn’t sure if that smile would still remain once the fire was out. He could tell Auren was restless as he wandered the house, trailing fingers along the mantle and window ledges, before poking through the fruit basket and stealing a pear.

He likely fears more nightmares.

And now, with night falling and the fire crackling low, Ulric wasn’t sure where he belonged.

They’d shared the bed out of necessity before—when Auren’s body had been weak and his spirit shattered. When holding him through the shakes was the only way Ulric knew to anchor him.

But now… Auren was healing. He was walking. Breathing. Laughing.

Ulric didn’t want to presume that his presence was still necessary. Or welcome.

So he laid out spare blankets near the hearth, folding them into something vaguely resembling a cot. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it would suffice. The last thing he wanted was to crowd the prince. Not now. Not when Auren had just begun to stretch his limbs again and smile without flinching.

“You can go to sleep first,” Ulric offered as he sat on the floor by the fireplace. “I’ll read for a while.”

Auren hesitated. “Oh. Okay.”

There was something uncertain in the way he slid under the covers with a hint of reluctance. But he didn’t argue.

Hopefully, he will sleep without a terror waking him.

Ulric would remain awake long enough to ensure Auren was in a deep slumber before retiring himself. He pulled a worn book from the shelf—an old sea-bound journal of arcane tides—and settled before the fire. The cabin was quiet, save for the crackling wood and the faint rustle of sheets.

He’d read only a few pages when a silent hand lowered the book.

Ulric blinked up in surprise.

Auren stood over him. Shirtless. Only the soft cotton of his loose trousers hung from his hips.

His hair tumbled over his shoulders as though the fire had leaped from the hearth and made its home atop his head.

His cheeks were flushed, and his lips parted as though he might say something, but the words never came.

“Auren,” Ulric said slowly, his heart taking up a frantic rhythm. “What are you doing up? Do you need something?”

Auren stepped closer, eyes half-lidded.

“Are you hungry? I can fetch you?—”

Ulric’s words cut off as Auren took the book from his hands and let it fall onto the floor. Then he straddled Ulric’s lap, knees settling to either side and framing his thighs.

Ulric inhaled sharply.

His hands found Auren’s hips without thinking, fingertips brushing the indent of bone, the hard sculpt of trained muscle. This body, born of magic and sea, was strong. Beautiful. Perfect.

“Auren…” he rasped. “You need to rest.”

But his voice lacked conviction.

Auren still hadn’t said a word. Just looked with an intensity that made Ulric forget his name. And then he was leaning in, and Ulric lost himself.

Their mouths met.

The kiss exploded between them. Ulric kissed him back like he’d been starving for it. He gripped Auren’s hips possessively, anchoring their bodies.

Their tongues danced, tasting, teasing, testing. And when Auren broke away to suck at the hollow of Ulric’s throat, the Kraken groaned low in his chest—a sound so deep it vibrated the bones in his ribs.

He couldn’t help it.

His hips rolled upward, grinding against Auren’s. Auren gasped and did the same, and suddenly they were moving together, hungry, bodies aligned in perfect rhythm.

Their arousals strained against fabric, barely contained. Ulric’s head dropped back as Auren’s hips rocked again, and a tremor ran through him.

He was seconds from losing control.

His hands slid lower, dipping beneath the hem of Auren’s trousers, cupping the prince’s ass—firm and sculpted, like it had been made to fit in his palms.

But just as his fingers flexed, ready to take more, a bolt of clarity hit him, like the cold spray of water.

No.

He tore his hands away, gasping.

“Auren,” he panted. “We can’t. You’re still healing. I won’t take advantage of you like this.”

Auren blinked, lips swollen from kissing, chest heaving. A trace of sadness touched his face as he sat back.

“This body is new to me,” he whispered.

He touched his upper arm, below the shoulder, where Elias had once split his skin open to poke and prod at the muscle beneath. The mark was faint now, but still there. Still a scar that no magic could fully erase.

“All I’ve ever known in this form is pain,” Auren whispered. “I want to forget it. And… and when I’m with you, like this, it feels… good.” Auren looked away as he said it, cheeks flushed. “I want to forget the pain. I want to erase it and replace it with… you.”

Ulric couldn’t bear it.

He surged forward and pulled Auren into a fierce embrace, pressing his lips to his temple.

“If that is what you want,” he said, voice shaking, “then I will banish those memories. I will carve away every scar with pleasure. I’ll replace them with something you won’t want to forget.

And it will all belong to you.” He cupped Auren’s cheek and pulled back, eyes searching.

“Is that what you want of me, my prince?”

Auren nodded.

And then the fire roared hotter.

They kissed again, hungrier this time. Messier. Ulric lifted him easily, carrying him to the bed without breaking contact. He lay Auren on the pillows, worshiping him with every brush of his lips.

Ulric undid the laces of his pants, sliding them from his smooth legs, until Auren lay beneath him in nothing but firelight.

And gods… he was breathtaking. His manhood was long, thick, flushed, and perfect.

Ulric had never seen anything so divine.

So powerful. So tender all at once. He knelt between Auren’s legs and wrapped a hand around him—marveling at the way Auren cried out, head tipping back, body arching into the touch.

“Does that feel good, my prince?”

Auren’s mouth remained open, gasping at the new sensation.

“It-it’s very sensitive. I… it looks different now,” he said, struggling to find words as Ulric continued to touch him.

“Yes, an interesting part of the human body. It hardens when aroused, and by the looks of it, you’re very aroused, spriteling. Are you not?”

Auren nodded.

“Would you like me to continue? I know a great deal about the human body.”

“Please,” Auren begged, fists clenching and unclenching.

“You’re stunning like this,” Ulric whispered, holding back the words he could not say.

I will carve myself into your memory, so that even when I am gone, you will remember the echoes of my touch.

Ulric stroked him with deliberate motions. Learned every ridge. Every breath. Every gasp and bite of lips. Auren’s hands tangled in the sheets, his mouth parted in desperate moans as Ulric brought him to the edge. He increased the speed of his strokes, squeezing tighter.

“Ulric-Ulric!” Auren said in a hurried panic.

“Don’t fight it. Let go, my prince. I’ll be here to catch you.”

And with a final motion of his wrist, Ulric coaxed Auren over the edge.

He came with a cry, spilling across his stomach in hot, white ribbons.

Ulric leaned forward and kissed him through his orgasm, tasting every moan, sharing in his pleasure. When the member in his hand stopped pulsing, Ulric released him, giving him a moment to return to himself.

“Are you alright spriteling?”

Auren took a moment to respond.

“I-I think so.”

“Are you in any pain?”

Auren shook his head, but looked troubled.

“What is it?” Ulric asked, alarms ringing in his ears.

“Does that… is that a one-time thing for humans? You feel it once, then it’s gone?” He looked so sad as he asked it.

Ulric laughed and pressed a heavy kiss to Auren’s lips.

“Oh no, my prince. I can make you come like that a million more times if you’d like.”

Auren smiled and nodded, “I’d like that.”

Afterward, they lay together, tangled in sheets.

“I didn’t know this body could feel so good,” Auren murmured sleepily. He turned his head, blinking at him. “You make me feel that way.”

Ulric kissed his forehead. “Always.”

And as the fire dwindled to embers, they drifted into sleep, limbs entwined, hearts steady.

Ulric was running out of time. He could feel it. Could sense the magic ebbing away from him day by day. Hour by hour. But as long as this mortal realm would have him, Ulric would stay. He would live in the moment… because in this moment, he had everything he ever wanted resting in his arms.